


I'll Protect You From Everything

by MannerismOdd



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, GenderNeutral!Reader, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MannerismOdd/pseuds/MannerismOdd
Summary: McCree gives you a promise he can't keep after getting smashed at Lucio's birthday party.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend really wanted me to write for McCree, so here it is! I had so much fun writing this.

You laughed as you watched McCree started dancing rather poorly to the music playing over the speakers. You couldn’t believe that you loved this dork. He was a sweetheart, but he was also rather embarrassing. Like now.

“Stop it!” you giggled, lightly hitting his shoulder. “We’re in public! In a _store_!”

The cowboy gave you one of his roguish smiles that made you melt. “Well now, why cain’t I? Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with some dancin’.”

“Seriously, Jesse. Wait until we’re with everybody else for the party! Not in a music store.” You tried to give him an irritated look, but his stupid dance moves kept on bringing a smile to your face. He looked so damn ridiculous, wearing his serape and chaps in the middle of a normal civilian setting.

After a couple more awkward and suggestive hip thrusts, McCree stopped. “All right, but only if ya want me to, sugar.” He winked at you, then turned back to the  shelves. “Anywhoo, whaddya think Lucio’ll like?”

You glanced back at the shelves. “Anything that’s music,” you responded. “Maybe jazz? Swing?”

McCree shot you an odd look. “Why’d’ya suppose that?”

You bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with jazz and swing!” you defended.

The cowboy laughed and pulled you into a side-hug. “Well, it ain’t my birthday gift.” He frowned at the shelves, before looking back at you. “How ‘bout we get the easy gift and jus’ give him an iTunes gift card?”

“Yeah. Let’s just give him one with more money on it than that five dollar one you got him last year. His patience was a little strained, with that and your entire attitude the entire time.” You gave him a slightly accusing look.

“All right, all right. We’ll get him one that’s fifty dollars. Is that okay?” McCree muttered.

You grinned. “Much better.”

***

“Happy birthday, Lucio!” everybody cheered as he entered the room. The Brazilian jumped slightly, a surprised expression on his face. Then he began to laugh.

“Aw, guys! You didn’t have to do all this!”

You walked forward and gave him a hug. “We didn’t have to, no... We wanted to.” You glanced back at McCree, a smile on your face. “In fact, it was Jesse’s idea. You should thank him.”

Lucio looked surprised. “Wow, really? Thanks, McCree!”

“No problem. But it might be if ya don’t let go of my date mate right there.” 

You laughed at the fact that McCree was lowkey jealous of the platonic hug. You let go of Lucio and cuddled up to McCree. “You know I don’t think of him that way,” you murmured so only McCree could hear.

The slight tension quickly left McCree’s body now that you stood next to him and not Lucio.

Then the festivities began, full swing.

You yourself decided to refrain from drinking, but that certainly didn’t stop your boyfriend. Who was currently twerking on a table nearby, much to your embarrassment. This man never stopped with the odd dancing. You averted your eyes.

“Hey, (Y/N), I think your boyfriend’s about to make love to that table,” Lucio yelled over the music. 

You frowned at him slightly, then turned back to McCree, who was now dancing a much more suggestive dance on the table top.

“Jesse!” you shrieked, cheeks reddening at your boyfriend’s antics. “Get down from there!” You didn’t mean a word of it. Instead, you ended up slipping your phone out of your pocket and began filming his poor dance moves.

A couple minutes later, McCree broke the table.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side, worried. Once you got there, however, you found McCree laughing his ass off. You sighed with relief, pulling him up as you muttered, “You are so freaking drunk right now.” To the rest of the crew, you yelled, “We’re heading home! We don’t want McCree to break any more tables.”

All you got in response was a couple murmured agreements before you were out the door.

You basically had to drag McCree back to your quarters, where you dumped him onto the bed at first opportunity. Holding up somebody’s weight for the length of hallway was exhausting enough - going all the way to your quarters? Your arms were dead.

“Ya don’t wanna join me, sweetheart?” he slurred as you tried to return the feeling to your arms.

You looked back down at him incredulously. “While you’re smashed? I think not - I’m going to have to deal with this in the morning, so I’m going to need as much sleep as I can possibly get.”

“Jus’ lay down ‘ere, right next ta me,” he murmured. He looked like a petulant child when you shook your head.

“Wha- Don’t give me that look, Jesse! Just let me get ready for bed! I’ll be right back.”

After a couple minutes, you collapsed next to Jesse in bed, him underneath the covers, you on top. 

McCree wrapped his arms around you. “I’m goin’ ta protect ya,” he whispered sweetly in your ear, surprising you slightly.

“From what?” you asked, slightly amused.

“From everythin’,” he replied simply before burying his face into your neck.

You giggled and lightly kissed him.

***

A hot wind ruffled Jesse McCree’s thick brown hair. He held your torn up cape close to his chest as he tried to fight the tears rolling down his face. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)” he whispered. “I promised ta protect ya. I didn’t mean ta lie ta ya.” He looked back up at the horizon, steel suddenly in his voice. “I’m goin’ ta get ya back,” he said coldly. “No matter what it takes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree goes insane over your disappearance - you are tortured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's... well, I don't really know. I enjoyed writing it, that's all that matters.

Jesse McCree was almost insane with his anguish over your disappearance. Many other agents would watch in growing horror at his brutal way of dispatching anyone who stood in his way of getting back to you. It had gotten so bad that he had even begun to lash out at people on his own team.

It was wrong. Seeing McCree so cold and inhuman... it was like the sky turning red and the clouds raining blood - it was a scary change of events. It was alarming.

“Go talk to him, Angela.”

“Go in there, speak with him.”

“C’mon love, you’re the only who has ever been able to talk him down. Except (Y/N)...”

McCree could hear the whispers behind the door. He knew he should’ve felt... he didn’t know, _something_  when he heard his friends nervous hissing and squabbling, but he didn’t. If he could feel anything, he probably would’ve felt disappointed in himself.

But instead, he felt hollow. He missed the way you got embarrassed whenever he danced. He missed the way you would drag him home if he got too drunk. He missed everything about you.

The door creaked open as a nervous Angela entered the room.

“Hello McCree,” she began, trying to keep her voice from quivering with the anxiety she felt. 

McCree remained silent, coldly glaring at her.

“W-we needed to speak with you about your whole...” Angela paused, talking a deep breath as she tried to think of a tactful way to bring up the problem. “Jesse,” she restarted, “we need to talk.”

“No,” McCree growled, “no, we don’t need ta talk. What we need is to fix this damn team - y'all can’t do anythin’ without (Y/N). Who we still need ta find.”

“McCree, we’ve gone over this before. You know that we can’t look for them.”

McCree slammed his hand down on the table. Angela flinched at the loud noise. She never thought that the once easy-going man would ever be this scary. She never realized just how important you were to him.

“And why exactly  _is_  that, Dr. Ziegler?” McCree asked quietly, dangerously.

Angela took a deep breath in, trying to steady her nerves. “Because McCree,” she began, “while we don’t know exactly where they are, we do know that it’s associated with Talon, and right now, Talon’s not an organization we want to go up against right now.”

“Then I’ll take that risk!” McCree roared.

“You don’t have the ability, McCree! You can’t bring them back without destroying yourself!” Angela cried back shrilly. “We already lost one agent, we don’t want to lose another!”

McCree stood up, towering over Angela. She flinched, as though she was scared he was going to hurt her.

But he just left, consumed with his anguish over losing you.

***

You couldn’t say how long you had been down there. All you knew was that it was dark and it smelled like blood and you were often in extreme pain. You felt like you were losing your mind.

Day in and day out, you were physically abused, cut, sewn up, torn apart, starved, thirsty, _dying_. You couldn’t think of anything but the pain.

You were in one of the lulls that came along once every few days. You didn’t know if you could keep this up. You didn’t know, you didn’t know...

“Hello, Agent (Y/L/N),” came a deep voice. “Shall we begin again?”

You tried to bite back a sob.

***

The thing with McCree is that he never listened to the higher authorities. True, he did know that he wouldn’t be able to get you back on his own, but he could search for you on his own. 

His plan was to find where you were. Then, he’d get some backup and come for you.

Alas, he couldn’t find any places you could possibly be. The trail went cold after the cape of your uniform was found bloody and torn.

“Dammit,” he swore, rubbing a hand down his face. He sat back in his seat. “Dammit,” he repeated as tears pricked behind his eyes. “Dammit, (Y/N), who took you? Why would they take you out?”

McCree broke down, sobbing. 

“(Y/N), please,” he whispered softly, “please, come back. Come back.”

Outside the room, Angela frowned, hand poised to knock. She leaned forward, pressing her ear to the wood.

She could barely discern the exact words of McCree’s sobs, but she understood the basic message - he missed you. To the point where he was breaking apart.

Angela decided to press forward with what she had originally come here for - news about you.

“Jesse,” Angela murmured quietly as she gently pushed the door open, “are you okay?” She didn’t know why she asked that - he obviously wasn’t. Not only had she been listening at the door, but his eyes were red and puffy, there were tears glistening on his face within the tear tracks, not to mention his nose was congested, judging from his breathing.

McCree scoffed at the blatantly obvious answer. 

“Whaddya think? Does it look like I’m bloody okay?” he asked bitterly. “The love of my life is bloody missin’ an’ y’all won’t let me go after ‘em. Dammit, Angela,” he whispered, attempting to wipe the tears from his face, “I’m fallin’ apart without ‘em.” His voice dropped an impossibly quiet pitch. 

Even without his voice so close to silent, Angela wouldn’t be able to understand him. His anguish caused his Southern accent to become too thick for any hope of understanding.

Angela knelt next to him, lightly placing her hand on his arm. “McCree... I asked Morrison and Ana about (Y/N). They said they would let us look for them. They’ll let us use quite a bit of Overwatch’s resources.”

McCree remained silent, staring at the ground. It seemed like he was trying to soak that in. Like he was trying to find the appropriate response.

“R-really?” he asked, finally turning his head to look at Angela. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, McCree, yes! They’ll let us look for them! Trust me.” _But only because they think (Y/N) might be dead,_  she added silently. But that wasn’t something McCree needed to hear.

His eyes brightened with hope. It was the first positive emotion seen on McCree’s face in a long time. Angela felt incredibly guilty. 

McCree jumped up, determination steeling his face. “C’mon, Angie, we gotta get (Y/N) back.”

***

You had now gotten used to the dark. After all, spending all your time in it had resulted in one almost _enjoying_  it.

You heard the door open behind you. You turned your gaze back to the small sliver of light. It was shockingly bright compared to the blackness surrounding it.

“Ah, you’re finally awake, Agent (Y/L/N),” the man’s voice purred. 

Footsteps made their way up to your side. You began to lean towards the man, almost against your will. But no - this was something that you wanted, right?

The man fell to his knee next to you. He whispered in your ear, “Since you’ve made so much progress... we’re going to let you out. You know what to do - so what do you say, my dear? Are you ready?”

You stared off into the blackness. “Yes,” you whispered in a dry voice. “Of course I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't we going to have fun in the next one? Mwahahahahaha


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets close to finding you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am amazed by how much all of you like this. I am just so happy that it's doing so well! I definitely couldn't do it without all of you!

After they got going, it was amazing just how easy it was to pick up trails that led to you. McCree was shocked. Before he had Overwatch backing him up, it was difficult trying to pick up any semblance of a trail. But now, it was almost blatantly obvious where you could be. They now had three possible areas where you could be and it wouldn't be hard to hammer those out.

  
McCree frowned at the display in front of him as he searched for clues. Suddenly, something caught his eye.

  
"Angela," he whispered as he eyes widened. "Angela, come look at this."  
The blonde woman glanced up from her own research and frowned. "What is it, Jesse?"

  
He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Look." He held up the display.

  
After the woman fully understood the meaning or what he was showing her, she placed a hand on his prothstetic arm. "We're going to have them home by the end of the week," she said with confidence.

  
McCree felt happy tears begin to fill his eyes. He just couldn't believe that the two of you were soon to be reunited. "I cain't believe it," he murmured, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "I cain't believe how quickly we found (Y/N). I cain't believe it...."

  
Angela gave him one last reassuring hug, before saying, "Don't worry. We'll call the team together and brief them on the case. Then we'll be off."

  
She walked out of the room, and it seemed like her footsteps were lighter. McCree knew that she had felt guilty about your disappearance. She had been the last one to see you before you went off. She had been the one that had said you were perfectly fine. She was the one who found your bloodied weapons and uniform.

  
McCree settled at his table once again, humming slightly. He didn't know he could be so happy. Even when he discovered he'd gotten backing from Overwatch, he hadn't been so excited or happy. The only thing that could top this feeling right now was the feeling he'd get when he had you back in his arms.

  
Of course, he wasn't stupid. You would probably be a shell of who you used to be, but that could be worked on. You could go to therapy, counselling... you could return to yourself once again. And McCree wanted to be there, helping you through it all.

  
"Hey, ingrate," came a deep voice behind him, startling McCree from his thoughts. 

  
He turned around to see Morrison standing in the doorway, frowning as always.

 "Yeah?" McCree asked, uncertain as to why his supervisor was here. Morrison wasn't particularly hands on with any of the recruits, unless 'hands on' meant beating them up and calling it 'practice'.

  
"I'd like to give you a word of warning," he began, staring McCree down with that creepy visor of his.

  
"On what?" McCree didn't want to be in this conversation. He wanted to be out in the field, looking for you. Time wasn't exactly being wasted, but it still felt vaguely like it was.

  
"(Y/N). When they come back, we don't know if it'll actually be them. It could be someone else wearing their face for all we know. Look at Widowmaker - she came back, and we all thought she was fine. Then she killed her -"

  
" _Shut yer mouth!_ " McCree yelled finally. He had been getting more and more flustered through Morrison's entire speech. You wouldn't be like that - McCree knew that. You were strong, stronger than Widowmaker. "You're wrong! (Y/N) would never be so weak, they would never -"

  
"Listen to me, boy. This world is cruel and often the people we thought were the unbreakable are actually easily broken. I hate to break it to you, but I need you to be vigilant when (Y/N) comes back. I don't want to lose any other agents." With that, he left the room.

  
McCree glared at the door long after Morrison had walked away.

  
***

  
You were waiting for the arrival of the Overwatch team silently. It was only a matter of time - then you would be accepted back into their ranks, and then... it would work out just like planned. Talon had kept you for enough time for Overwatch to be worried but short enough for them to think you were fine.

  
You would be taking down the worst organization in the world. You'd be taking out their most dangerous enemy. It would work out exactly how the man told you it would. You could trust them. 

  
Why would you believe otherwise?

  
***

  
McCree and Lucio barreled into the Talon headquarters. They didn't have much time, even with the distractions the rest of the team was throwing at the opposing side. Door after door, they searched through the buildings for you.

  
After twenty long, uneventful minutes, the two of them got a message saying that the team would have to pull back soon. They couldn't keep up the fight for much longer. McCree felt heartbroken - they were so close to finding you, and yet -

  
McCree froze as he noticed something from the corner of his eye.

  
How odd it was that the unremarkable door in the shadowy hallway was the door that got McCree's attention. It certainly didn't appear to be the entrance to neither a hellish torture chamber nor some gray, boring jail cell. After what felt like hundreds of doors that could've led to you, this seemed like the least likely one. But it had still caught McCree's eye.

  
When McCree opened it, he found himself staring down a long, darkened stairway that led, presumably, into the depths of Hell. It was now the most promising lead that he'd seen in that day.

  
McCree backed up. "Lucio. Would ya help me over here? I think I found it."

  
Lucio, who had been skating dejectedly down the hall, whipped around to face McCree. "Are you absolutely certain?" He looked excited at the thought of seeing you again.

  
_You and me both, kid_ , McCree thought as he watched Lucio skate back to him. You and Lucio were best friends, almost inseparable. Just like Angela, he felt incredibly guilty that you were taken by Talon. And now McCree was about to fix that.

  
The two of them descended into the pitch black darkness.

  
"Dammit, I cain't see anythin' in here," McCree cursed quietly. He searched his pockets for the lighter that he always kept on him. The two of you had an argument involving his smoking habit, but you finally relented. McCree would be able to continue his smoking, but only if he didn't kiss you whenever he'd been smoking. You had said you hadn't been too fond of the taste of nicotine.  
McCree smiled slightly at the memory. Soon he'd be able to make more with you.

  
He flicked the lighter, it's little flame illuminating the room a lot better than he'd been expecting. As he squinted through the yellowish light, he turned around slowly. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes stopped on your unconscious form.

  
"(Y/N)!" he cried, rushing forward towards you. He cradled your injured face in his hands as tears filled his eyes. "(Y/N)..." Turning around, he met Lucio's eyes. "Help me. Could you heal her?"

  
Lucio gave a curt nod, suddenly businesslike, despite his relief at finally finding you.

  
After a couple minutes (which had felt infinitely long to McCree) your eyes fluttered open. They landed on McCree after looking around groggily. 

  
"Jesse?" you whispered, like you couldn't believe it. "Is that you?"

  
"Yes, yes, it is, (Y/N). We're getting you out of here. We're getting you home," McCree said, laughing out of relief. His tears began to slowly roll down his cheeks. 

  
You were back with him.

  
You were now in place to take down Overwatch's best agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for part 4!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You adjust to the Overwatch way of life - or so McCree thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I never thought that this fic would be so popular. I literally just was like, "I need McCree angst RIGHT NOW" and I wrote it.
> 
> Thank you guys so much. You have made my day multiple times in the past week with your kudos and your comments and your bookmarks. You are all so amazing.

Everything didn't snap back to the way it was before you had left, as opposed to the way that many of the agents had assumed. Instead, you were often hidden in your room. You had avoided as much contact as possible - even contact with the healers.   
  
McCree didn't know how to feel about it. He had you back, true... yet it still felt like something was missing. You were here but you weren't here. That thought plagued him throughout the next couple days. He had assumed that you would at least agree to go to therapy sessions. Anything to help you acclimate back to the Overwatch way of life.   
  
But you just hid from everybody.  
  
McCree sat down in the conference room. Everybody had gathered here to discuss your problem.   
  
There were the lighter questions, such as: How were they going to get you to go to therapy? How were they going to help you heal? What could they do to help you transition?  
  
There were the darker questions: What if you were never going to get better? What if your PTSD was too debilitating for them to even make a dent in it?  
  
And there were the normal pessimistic remarks from Morrison.  
  
"I'm just saying that we shouldn't let our guard down yet," he reminded everyone in his deep, gravelly voice. "(Y/N) is now in a position that will make it easier to get away with suspicious behaviors. Be on the lookout for such behaviors."  
  
"Oi, shove off, 76!" Tracer exclaimed. "We finally get (Y/N) back and you're over here prophesying the final days."  
  
"Tacer's right, Morrison," Angela said with a frown. "You're overreacting. It's perfectly normal to lock oneself up in order to try to organize their thoughts." She glanced over to see McCree slumped at the table. "Don't you agree, McCree?" It was obviously a quip at McCree’s behavior before they had gotten you back.  
  
McCree jumped slightly at the acknowledgement. "Uh, yeah." He didn't know exactly what was going on. He was too busy thinking about you.  
  
Angela turned back to Morrison, a triumphant look on her face. "That settles it. We won't treat (Y/N) as some double agent. We're going to treat them like any normal human being with PTSD."  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you when they turn on us," Morrison said darkly, sitting back in his chair, scowling.  
  
McCree anxiously awaited the end of the meeting, when he practically bolted from the room.  
  
He stood in front of your door. He just wanted to talk to you, especially after the multiple warnings about you. For some reason, Morrison's words still buzzed around in his head. Morrison was just being ridiculous, but the threat still remained, however small it ended up to be.  
  
His hand was poised to knock. He almost brought it down to meet the wood until he heard quiet sobs and sharp gasps from the other side.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
His heart paused at the sound. He hadn't known just how scared you were after your torturous absence.

McCree completely ignored the nicety of knocking before entering. He just burst in, guns blazing. Figuratively speaking, of course.  
  
He entered the room, searching the entire room. He felt his heart stop when he couldn't find you at first glance. Then he forced himself to calm down and to listen. The sound of your sobs came from his right. He turned and saw the closet door right in front of his nose.

He found you curled up in the corner of your closet, hands clasped over your ears, eyes screwed shut as tears trailed down your face in glistening streams.  
  
"(Y/N), darlin', are ya okay?" he asked gently, dropping down next to you.   
  
You didn't answer. Instead, you sobbed even louder, which was the opposite of what McCree had wanted.  
  
"(Y/N) -" he had been told to address you with your name every time he spoke to you, just to help you get a better understanding of your surroundings - "(Y/N), sweetheart, I need ya ta take a deep breath."  
  
Still, you didn't show any indication that you had heard him.

McCree faltered. "(Y/N)... (Y/N), please, please, listen to me."  
  
Was it just his imagination or did your sobs lessen a bit?  
  
McCree encircled you in his strong, warm arms, hopefully giving you an impression of being protected from the world and its misery. "Shhh, shhh... I'm here now. I'm here now." He kissed the top of your head.  
  
It wasn't immediate, but eventually, you calmed down. You leaned back into McCree. He could feel your scarily fast heartbeat through his hands, but he could hear your breathing begin to slow.

"Shhh, shhh," he cooed, stroking your hair and lightly tracing your temples.  
  
He felt your muscles relax. You let out a soft sigh and slowly became limp in his arms. Once he heard your soft snores, he gingerly picked you up.  
  
McCree knew that you hadn't been sleeping well since your return. He could always see the light shine through the crack at the bottom of the door late at night whenever he went to the bathroom. Now McCree wished that he didn't leave alone. You'd had way too much alone time to think about what happened.  
  
Now McCree was going to be there to protect you from everything.  
  
***  
  
You were curled up in the bed next to McCree. You didn't really know how you got here. You remembered crying, then having him... was he comforting you? Why would he do that? Overwatch was the bane of everybody's existence on the planet.   
  
You remembered the anxiety attack before McCree had come in. You had been back at Overwatch for - how long has it been now? Two weeks? - and you still hadn't done your job. Your excuse had been that you hadn't gotten the opportunity, but that was a blatant lie.

The truth was that you were scared that the agents of Overwatch would kill you before you could complete your mission. Either way, you were a failure.  
  
You turned around to check if McCree was still asleep. Your assumptions were proven correct by the sight of his chest rising and falling steadily. You could almost feel the oxygen being pushed through his body, relaxing him further and further.  
  
It was times like this where you were reminded how much you loved him.  
  
Wait.  
  
 _What?_  
  
You couldn't love him. He was Overwatch. It must be the poisoning from before you were told the truth that made you think that you loved him. You felt a mini-heart attack at the thought. Would you lose sight of the truth?  
  
You pushed yourself off the bed as fast as possible, hitting the ground with a painful crash. You couldn't get any closer to the man. He would destroy everything you and Talon had worked for.

You left the room swiftly and quietly.  
  
 _Now where was the armory?_  
  
Drawing on your memory, you remembered that it was close by. Just down the hallway and to the left.  
  
You entered the dark room. Casting a look around the room, your eyes stopped on the slim knife that was used only for discreet missions. You gently unhooked it from its perch. It felt good in your hands. It felt right.

_Oh yeah. This was mine. It was what I used on all those missions._

You played around with it for a bit, twirling it through the deadly motions that incapacitated many enemies, feeling the edge of the blade for its sharpness. When you felt your skin part under the metal, you felt satisfaction flood you.  
  
Yes, this would be enough. McCree wouldn't live through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally where I wanted to be!!!! I am going to have fun writing the next chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for part 2!!


End file.
